Slasher Company- Artashi Landing
by Creator0210
Summary: The 212th Attack Battalion is formed from four companies of 144 men. Ghost Company is the group that is followed by the Clone Wars series. This story follows Slasher Company, specifically one squad, through an assault on a CIS held planet.


The alarm cut sharply through the quiet and the berthings were bathed in a blue light. The compartment was a rectangular room divided into three aisles by a thick steel wall reaching all the way to ceiling and running the length of the room. Bunks lined the walls ten meters up and they were crammed in such a way as to allow an entire company of over 100 clones to be housed in a room that ordinarily would only allow for only sixty beings to exist comfortably within. But then again the Grand Army of the Republic wasn't in the business of comfort.

Soldiers swung out of racks, some eagerly and others less so. All around, clones began readying themselves for what lay ahead. By this time the next morning many of them would be dead, and they all knew it. At the far end of the compartment three troops huddled around one of the lockers that was built directly under each rack. One soldier was just finishing pulling on his armor. A dull clank could be heard as each plastic piece magnetized to his body glove."The captain wants squad and team leaders for a brief in five, so get your shit together," He turned to the soldier to his left, "Able, make sure Skate and The Shiny are ready in ten." The bald man replied with a simple, "Yes sir," and motioned for the third trooper to get to his rack and begin the ordeal of putting on his cumbersome phase I armor. The fully armored clone with close cropped hair turned to exit the compartment. He weaved between soldiers rushing to the head on his way out of the compartment, hearing Skate yell, "Where the fuck is Shiny?" as he entered the hall.

The company briefing was being held in a rec room a deck above the berthings. Corporal 42 passed armored troops from different companies on their way to briefs or the galley. 42 turned off into a corridor that terminated in a set of three turbolifts all lined side by side. A navy petty officer dressed in the sharp grey tunic that distinguished his kind from the army men aboard the ship was waiting for one of the elevators when 42 reached them. "Who you with soldier?" "Slasher Company, two one two," 42 began, "I can't wait to get off this freakin tub." The navy man turned and gave 42 a small smile with the corners of his mouth, "Be careful what you wish for. I hear the landing's going to be pretty rough, especially for you 212th guys." "Hey, you gotta lead with your best." The turbolift doors slid open bathing the men in a bright light that shone in stark contrast to the dull reds and greys of the rest of the ship's interior. Both clones shuffled inside. "I'd sure hate to be on one of the Acclamators," 42 remarked, "It's gotta be a fucking zoo over there." "I was stationed on one of those things during Geonosis, before the Valiant was built and let's just say I'm never going to trust any ship where the whites outnumber the greys." 42 laughed as the lift stopped and opened. Before he could exit the petty officer grabbed his shoulder and said, "Hey, good luck down there. Stay safe brother."

The briefing hadn't started when 42 got to the rec room. Around two dozen soldiers milled about waiting for the captain to arrive. 42 surveyed the mix of men in orange striped armor before his eyes settled on sargent Brimhall, his squad leader. "Hey, 42 get your ass over here." No sooner had 42 complied with the sargent than the cry rang out, "Attention on deck!" The troops went silent as each one snapped to attention. "At ease men, at ease." The clones relaxed and put their hand behind their backs as the captain moved to the front of the room. He was an imposing man with his hair shaved into three neat rows and a large tattoo adorned his right temple. 42 could just make out the word: Battleborn. The wall behind him took on a blue glow as a projector displayed a map of the landing zone. "This is Artashi, specifically the city of Fuulda." The image zoomed, displaying a prairie surrounding the aforementioned city. "We are going to be landing here," he motioned to a spot on the prairie, uncomfortably far away from the city. Murmurs escaped the crowd and 42 glanced concerned at Brimhall who merely shrugged. One trooper did speak up, "Sir, uh, I thought our objective would be to secure the city." "That is our objective sargent." "Then why are we landing so far away sir? There's hardly any cover out there." "Sargent if you want to try and take that city without armor support be my guest," the sergeant stepped back sheepishly as others around him smirked, "The city is too tight for us to drop walkers into in so we need to use the prairie as a staging area. The Seps have got so many fucking bottle rockets in that city that we wouldn't be able to get within a click of it anyways." This time it was 42 who spoke up, "Sir, what's a bottle rocket?" "Excellent question corporal," the captain clicked the display to pull up a rectangular looking device mounted on at an upward angle upon to stalks. The rectangular body was filled with at least three dozen tubes. "These are bottle rockets. Small, cheap, and extremely effective at close ranges. The Seps have these damn things mounted on the side of every fucking building in town. They can't reach too far out, but any gunship that tries to land in the city is going to get blown out of the sky." More murmurs from the crowd. "We will be landing two kilos out from the city. Ghost and Slasher will move up the left flank with General Kenobi. Wraith and Ghoul will take the right side. Expect light resistance up until the city. That's where it's gonna get tricky. Both flanks will spread out. We'll be on the inside next to Ghoul. Our objective will be to secure the marketplace, about thirteen blocks in and set up a CP." Each company will have the support of an AT-TE walker as well as a squad of mounties. If there are no more questions go get your boys to the mess and be ready to load up in an hour. Good luck warfighters." A hearty cheer rose from the assembled NCOs.

As the gaggle broke to prepare for what was to come Brimhall took 42 asside. "Are you ready?' "I'm always ready sarge, Able and Skate are ready." "What about your shiny? Is he ready?" "Were you ready? Were any of us? He's going to stay close to Skate." "Good," the two soldiers moved into an open lift. "We're gonna stick with the walker and royally fuck up anything that tries to get close to it. Roger?" 42 answered, imitating the high pitched, mechanical tone of a battle droid, "Roger roger sargent." The lift's doors opened and the two hurried to get back to the compartment.

All the clones were suited up, or mostly suited up. Most had already left for the mess. Able and Skate were coaching the shiny through how to cover them from behind. "You get your guys 42, I'll grab mine." 42 made his way to his soldiers. "Guys, we're heading to the mess," he was interrupted by Skate, "We already ate." "Yeah," the shiny put in, "Some guys from Wraith came by with a bunch of rations. They said navy overran the mess." Able held out a block wrapped in brown foil, "Want one?" "No. If you're done eating let get to the hanger. We're landing in a field and advancing on the city. We stick close to the walkers and once we get to the city we take the market and set up a CP. Questions?" "Can we get this the fuck over with?" Skate replied driely. "The sooner the better, let's get moving, grab your brain buckets." With that the four men scattered to find which one of the dozen and a half remaining helmets belonged to them. 42 went over to Brimhall. The sergeant was reading his weapon, a DC carbine. "You're guys eat already?" "Yeah, fucking navy guys they take our shit, but they don't have to deal with our shit." "We should get going sarge." "Yeah, yeah we should."

At first glance one might think that whoever was responsible for organizing the activity of the main hangar of the Venator had failed miserably at their job, however upon more careful inspection it became apparent that every mechanic, every flight tech and ordnance mate, every single part or munition that lined the deck of the ray shielded compartments served a pre calculated purpose. The tangle of clones ducking in and out of starfighters and gunships preparing them for duty and the orange vested flight crewmen dancing about, facilitating the launch of V-19 and Y- Wing sorties was in fact a carefully choreographed dance.

When the clones of Slasher Company arrived in the hangar bay navy crewmen set about corralling the soldiers into any one of five LAAT/i gunships. "This is it gents," Skate said in a low voice as they walked towards the staging area, "if you have any objections speak now or forever hold your peace." "I object to you freaking talking Skate," Able replied. "Oh, everyone's a damn critic," Skate turned to the shiny, "do you have any objections Shiny?" Before Shiny could answer Brimhall said sharply, "Shut the fuck up Skate." "Goddamn," a trooper in Brimhall's team began, "I forgot how much I freaking hate these helmets." "I think you'd hate getting your face shot off a lot more Rush."

Sargent Brimhall, 42, and the rest of their squad were shown to the second ship in the line. They and two other squads filled the interior. The gunship's cabin was a large, empty space with handholds originating from the ceiling. The clones took positions at each rail, holding their weapon in their left hand and the rail with their right. A strip of white lights running the length of the craft flickered on illuminating the cabin. As the large doors on either side of the craft closed 42 could make out a flight crewman yelling, "May the force be with you!" Abel turned to Skate, "As soon as we land push Shiny out the damn door. I don't like sitting in these things, too much of a target." Skate simply nodded and turned to the Shiny, "I swear to fuck kid if you don't move your ass when we land I'm not waiting up for you." Shiny gulped and nodded quickly muttering a hoarse, "Aye." "Are you in the fucking navy now?" The groan that escaped Shiny's mouth was drowned out by the rumble of the gunship. 42 felt the ground beneath him lurch and a pit form in his stomach as their craft took off. The steady rumble of the engines increased in intensity as the gunship flew down the long ventral hangar and out into space. The light in the cabin changed from white to red when the craft entered the vacuum.


End file.
